The rain began slowly at first. The drops quickly soaked into the cracked cement of the sidewalk. More began to fall, faster and faster, until the cement could no longer drink up their moisture. They joined with one another to run along the surface of the pavement and splash out from under the boots of the hulking figure that strode through the storm.
Pedestrians huddled under their umbrellas and scurried away from him as he marched down the middle of the sidewalk. Bran did not take offense. He was used to inspiring fear in both enemies and allies, being over a head and a half taller than a normal man and twice the bulk. The few that glanced up at his weathered face were inevitably drawn to the long scar that ran up from his grey mustache over his cheek and underneath the eye patch over his right eye. Though some had the courtesy to remain nonchalant and nod to him as he passed, most just uneasily averted their gaze.
The rain quickly soaked into his flack jacket, causing its brown and green camouflage to take on a dark, almost black appearance. His green beret became plastered to his head, with water running from it freely over his right ear. Uncomfortable as it was, Bran kept his back straight and his eye forward as he continued resolutely toward his destination.
He had been given an anonymous tip about a warehouse that a gang had taken over on the outskirts of Atlas Park and he was determined to convince them that their new choice of lodgings was unwise. His long, precise strides did not falter on the slick pavement. It was not the first time he had marched through the pouring rain. But in the past he had been marching on his way to war. I suppose in a sense Im doing the same now, he thought grimly. The villainous elements of Paragon City never seemed to rest.
The rain was now falling in heavy sheets and Bran noticed that almost all of the pedestrians had disappeared from the streets. He caught a glimpse of a dark figure stepping quickly out of sight down an alley. His shoulders tightened reflexively but he walked onward. If Im being followed, better not to tip them off. Half a block later on the other side of the street he heard the clatter of a trash can being tipped over and a muffled curse. Knowing that whoever was following him should attack or flee after ineptly blowing their cover; Bran broke his stride and sprinted into the nearest alley.
Additional curses followed behind as he leapt between the buildings. Obviously his pursuers had no intention of leaving after revealing themselves, so he jogged further down the alleyway, looking for a place to ambush them. Spotting a side alley up ahead, he made his way around the corner - straight into a waiting gang of thugs.
Malice twinkled in their eyes as they readied grips on knives, baseball bats, and pieces of broken pipe. One particularly arrogant hooligan stepped forward from the rest, but remained a safe distance from Brans long reach.
What terrible weather to be running around in, he said with a sneer. Shouldnt you be inside somewhere, keeping your little beret dry? A smattering of laughter arose from his comrades. Each one of them was also soaking wet.
I could say the same for you lot. Bran growled, trying to sound as intimidating as possible. Cowards like these only attack in numbers. This arrogant one is probably the leader. If I can scare a few off before the fighting even starts Ill have a greater advantage.
Hes a Brit! a gang member wearing a red bandana exclaimed. He elbowed the person next to him and spoke in a poorly imitated British falsetto. Blimey! Hes come to join us for a spot of tea! That got several of the other gang members chuckling, but Bran could see the tension in most of them. Running footsteps came to a halt behind him, but he didnt turn to look. He knew it had to be the clumsy ruffians that had chased him down the alley.
Good work you guys. You lead Mountain Beret straight to us. The arrogant one said to the gang members that had just arrived. They just huffed and puffed and did not respond. Not so tough without your buddies are you? He was obviously trying to show his cohorts he was not afraid of the huge hero, but was making sure he kept at a safe distance. Now, lets teach this Limey that this is our turf.
Bran tensed and shifted his immense weight to the balls of his feet as they attacked in a rush of punches, kicks, and flailing weapons. His dodges were slow but effective, enough to redirect most of the force behind his attackers unskilled blows. His huge fists lashed out among the sea of foes and soon several had crumpled to the ground. Unfortunately his vision, bad enough with only one eye, was becoming impaired with the rain and blood from a cut he had taken on his forehead. He paused to run a fist over it to wipe it clear.
His foes were taking advantage of his blind spot and he could feel a series of heavy blows coming from that side. His hip, ribs, and shoulder ached fiercely, but he whirled to face the cluster of gang members that had moved to concentrate on that side.
Suddenly he felt a searing pain in his side. Turning to look he saw blood running off an upraised knife. If he had not just spun to his right the knife would now surely have been planted in his back. Enraged, Bran grabbed the knife-wielding thug by the head and lifted him off the ground, his vast hand covering his unlucky adversarys entire face.
With a roar of fury he slammed the villain into the nearby buildings wall. The bricks gave a loud crack from the force of the blow but did not do much to cover the sickening crunch of breaking bones. The knife rolled to the ground from the thugs limp fingers and his head hung from his shoulders at an unnatural angle as he slumped to the ground. That caused several of his attackers to pause, and a few ran. The gang leader, incensed at seeing his companions fleeing, screamed something about bloody vengeance before their will was completely broken. They quickly renewed their attacks with even greater fervor.
Bran didnt bother trying to dodge anymore, the attackers had him surrounded and had so many weapons that dodging one only put him straight into the path of another. He swung furiously at them, and blow after blow connected, but he was starting to tire. A metal pipe caught him in the back of the knee and his leg buckled beneath him. A knife slashed out across his chest, but luckily did nothing more than split cloth. Kicks and punches rained down on him from every side. He tried to stand, but they were jumping on his back, pummeling at his head and shoulders. Bran saw the gang leader take a bat from one of his comrades. Unable to move quickly enough, Bran caught the swing under his empty eye socket and he heard the wood crack as his cheekbone shattered.
It seemed like he was falling in slow motion. The raindrops almost appeared to be hanging lazily in the air. The blinding pain of his shattered cheek had caused his eye to tear - or perhaps was it the rain. He heard a strange buzzing noise and thought he saw the gang leaders victorious grin melt into to a howl of fury, but he wasnt sure. He caught a glimpse of a flash of light and then darkness swept over him.
The Mountain - Part One
The rain began slowly at first. The drops quickly soaked into the cracked cement of the sidewalk. More began to fall, faster and faster, until the cement could no longer drink up their moisture. They joined with one another to run along the surface of the pavement and splash out from under the boots of the hulking figure that strode through the storm.
Pedestrians huddled under their umbrellas and scurried away from him as he marched down the middle of the sidewalk. Bran did not take offense. He was used to inspiring fear in both enemies and allies, being over a head and a half taller than a normal man and twice the bulk. The few that glanced up at his weathered face were inevitably drawn to the long scar that ran up from his grey mustache over his cheek and underneath the eye patch over his right eye. Though some had the courtesy to remain nonchalant and nod to him as he passed, most just uneasily averted their gaze.
The rain quickly soaked into his flack jacket, causing its brown and green camouflage to take on a dark, almost black appearance. His green beret became plastered to his head, with water running from it freely over his right ear. Uncomfortable as it was, Bran kept his back straight and his eye forward as he continued resolutely toward his destination.
He had been given an anonymous tip about a warehouse that a gang had taken over on the outskirts of Atlas Park and he was determined to convince them that their new choice of lodgings was unwise. His long, precise strides did not falter on the slick pavement. It was not the first time he had marched through the pouring rain. But in the past he had been marching on his way to war. I suppose in a sense Im doing the same now, he thought grimly. The villainous elements of Paragon City never seemed to rest.
The rain was now falling in heavy sheets and Bran noticed that almost all of the pedestrians had disappeared from the streets. He caught a glimpse of a dark figure stepping quickly out of sight down an alley. His shoulders tightened reflexively but he walked onward. If Im being followed, better not to tip them off. Half a block later on the other side of the street he heard the clatter of a trash can being tipped over and a muffled curse. Knowing that whoever was following him should attack or flee after ineptly blowing their cover; Bran broke his stride and sprinted into the nearest alley.
Additional curses followed behind as he leapt between the buildings. Obviously his pursuers had no intention of leaving after revealing themselves, so he jogged further down the alleyway, looking for a place to ambush them. Spotting a side alley up ahead, he made his way around the corner - straight into a waiting gang of thugs.
Malice twinkled in their eyes as they readied grips on knives, baseball bats, and pieces of broken pipe. One particularly arrogant hooligan stepped forward from the rest, but remained a safe distance from Brans long reach.
What terrible weather to be running around in, he said with a sneer. Shouldnt you be inside somewhere, keeping your little beret dry? A smattering of laughter arose from his comrades. Each one of them was also soaking wet.
I could say the same for you lot. Bran growled, trying to sound as intimidating as possible. Cowards like these only attack in numbers. This arrogant one is probably the leader. If I can scare a few off before the fighting even starts Ill have a greater advantage.
Hes a Brit! a gang member wearing a red bandana exclaimed. He elbowed the person next to him and spoke in a poorly imitated British falsetto. Blimey! Hes come to join us for a spot of tea! That got several of the other gang members chuckling, but Bran could see the tension in most of them. Running footsteps came to a halt behind him, but he didnt turn to look. He knew it had to be the clumsy ruffians that had chased him down the alley.
Good work you guys. You lead Mountain Beret straight to us. The arrogant one said to the gang members that had just arrived. They just huffed and puffed and did not respond. Not so tough without your buddies are you? He was obviously trying to show his cohorts he was not afraid of the huge hero, but was making sure he kept at a safe distance. Now, lets teach this Limey that this is our turf.
Bran tensed and shifted his immense weight to the balls of his feet as they attacked in a rush of punches, kicks, and flailing weapons. His dodges were slow but effective, enough to redirect most of the force behind his attackers unskilled blows. His huge fists lashed out among the sea of foes and soon several had crumpled to the ground. Unfortunately his vision, bad enough with only one eye, was becoming impaired with the rain and blood from a cut he had taken on his forehead. He paused to run a fist over it to wipe it clear.
His foes were taking advantage of his blind spot and he could feel a series of heavy blows coming from that side. His hip, ribs, and shoulder ached fiercely, but he whirled to face the cluster of gang members that had moved to concentrate on that side.
Suddenly he felt a searing pain in his side. Turning to look he saw blood running off an upraised knife. If he had not just spun to his right the knife would now surely have been planted in his back. Enraged, Bran grabbed the knife-wielding thug by the head and lifted him off the ground, his vast hand covering his unlucky adversarys entire face.
With a roar of fury he slammed the villain into the nearby buildings wall. The bricks gave a loud crack from the force of the blow but did not do much to cover the sickening crunch of breaking bones. The knife rolled to the ground from the thugs limp fingers and his head hung from his shoulders at an unnatural angle as he slumped to the ground. That caused several of his attackers to pause, and a few ran. The gang leader, incensed at seeing his companions fleeing, screamed something about bloody vengeance before their will was completely broken. They quickly renewed their attacks with even greater fervor.
Bran didnt bother trying to dodge anymore, the attackers had him surrounded and had so many weapons that dodging one only put him straight into the path of another. He swung furiously at them, and blow after blow connected, but he was starting to tire. A metal pipe caught him in the back of the knee and his leg buckled beneath him. A knife slashed out across his chest, but luckily did nothing more than split cloth. Kicks and punches rained down on him from every side. He tried to stand, but they were jumping on his back, pummeling at his head and shoulders. Bran saw the gang leader take a bat from one of his comrades. Unable to move quickly enough, Bran caught the swing under his empty eye socket and he heard the wood crack as his cheekbone shattered.
It seemed like he was falling in slow motion. The raindrops almost appeared to be hanging lazily in the air. The blinding pain of his shattered cheek had caused his eye to tear - or perhaps was it the rain. He heard a strange buzzing noise and thought he saw the gang leaders victorious grin melt into to a howl of fury, but he wasnt sure. He caught a glimpse of a flash of light and then darkness swept over him.